


out of hiding

by amemorymaze



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Alternate Universe, First Times, Fluff, M/M, rebel pilot bodhi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 07:56:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10485984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amemorymaze/pseuds/amemorymaze
Summary: It’s been a long day and hallucinating Cassian Andor really isn’t on his list of things to do. Bodhi wonders if the injuries and lack of sustenance has actually caused his mind to create this scene in his head.Then Cassian’s reaching towards him and Bodhi thinks, maybe he’s real after all.or, bodhi crashes on jedha and runs into cassian who's half-way through a mission he doesn't necessarily want to complete.





	

For the first time in fourteen years, Bodhi Rook finds himself stumbling across a desert. The sun is shining down on him and his throat is dry from dehydration. He has sand in his shoes, the grains scratching at his feet with every step he takes forward.

Bodhi hates sand: he hates the way it gets everywhere no matter what he does, hates the way it feels on bare skin and how it gets too hot if the sun shines on it for too long as it so often does. He hates how one tiny grain can be the cause of so much irritation.

Mostly Bodhi hates how it reminds him of home. Or, more apt perhaps; it reminds him of where he grew up.

He keeps the city looming ahead of him in the corner of his eyesight if only to serve as a reminder that this isn’t the same place. This is Jedha, the Holy City. A place he’d only stepped foot into twice before.

Bodhi keeps his feet moving. The threat of being found a heavy weight on his chest. He resists the urge to rub at his aching shoulder, knowing it’ll only irritate it more.

With shaking hands, Bodhi had tried his best to get himself away from the Ileenium system and what he had seen there, but he hadn't been quick enough. All it had taken was one good shot from one of the imperial TIE fighters that had ambushed him to knock his course askew just before his jump into hyperspace. Before he knew it, he’d been nosediving towards a planet at full speed.

Bodhi had scrambled with the ship to try and regain control, barely acknowledging the view from the window of a sandy, desert that brought about an ache in his heart.

His thoughts had been sluggish and his hands slow as he tried to climb out of the wreckage of his ship.

He’s lucky that there had been a spare set of civies in the ship, glad that he doesn't have to try and sneak into the imperial-infested city in his bright orange resistance suit. That would have painted a target on his back the moment someone saw him.

Crashing in the sandy dunes of Jedha’s desert that he once knew like the back of his hand is a lot softer than crashing through the forests on Yavin 4. Bodhi stumbles over his own feet with fatigue heavy behind his eyes.

The thing is, Bodhi knows just how dangerous it is for him to set foot in the city settled ahead of him. As a pilot, he tends to hear things. In the hangar back at the base, there's always people running off on missions, he gets his own missions, and there's a constant stream of snippets of quiet chatter meant only for the ears of those it's spoken to. He hears a lot, in the grand scheme of things.

It’s tempting sometimes when he hears things he shouldn’t be hearing and doesn’t want to hear, to just take one of the A-Wings and fly off to the stars. There’s a whole galaxy out there to discover, he could escape and get away from this all.

Bodhi has also heard things about Jedha City and the mess it's becoming. Rumours spread fast about these sorts of things, not just amongst the rebels. Practically swarming with Stormtroopers and imperial fleets, he knows this city is dangerous for anyone, particularly someone like him.

He also knows that heading to the city is going to be the only way out of here, even if he doesn't have a plan formulated yet. However, trying to form a plan in his head is almost impossible when he doesn’t know what lies ahead and is constantly thinking of his ship that’s likely already half-buried in the sand. His mind, still reeling from what he’d seen whilst skirting around the edges of the Ileenium system, is a jumble.

Despite his aching muscles and bruised skin, Bodhi makes himself move closer towards the city ahead. He can’t stay in one place long, he reasons with himself. The empire ships were bound to have seen something as he crashed and he can't risk being here when they come investigating.

Bodhi has dreams sometimes of what would happen if he were to be caught by the empire. They're more like nightmares, if he's honest, and they never end well.

 

+

 

Bodhi Rook is seventeen when Cassian Andor pulls him from the flaming wreckage of the once airborne Empire ship. The rain is torrential, but not enough to dim the fire burning up in the engine of the cargo ship.

Crash landing a few miles south of the runway wasn’t his intention. Ideally, Bodhi had wanted to land without the crashing part, but that’s kind of hard with Rebel cannons firing everywhere.

All things considered, crash landing only a few miles south of the runway isn’t that bad at all. A minor inconvenience, at best.

A major inconvenience, however, is how his movements are lethargic and slow. Everything’s spinning and Bodhi can’t even fumble with the buckle to unbelt himself from the pilot’s seat. He’s unaware of everything going on around him.

Soon enough, he finds himself allowing someone to drag him from his chair and away from the heat of the fire burning around him. Everything is too hot and too much, and it doesn’t take long for unconsciousness to pull him under.

 

+

 

Jedha City feels like it’s sat on the edge of a cliff that’s crumbling. That there’s waves pulling the stone away piece by piece and at any moment, it’ll collapse and fall.

It's all sand and stones and a heat with little breeze; so very different to Yavin. Bodhi walks with sand in his shoes and the ache in his shoulder ever more persistent. He can remember the exact time when he was on a planet with this much sand.

He remembers the tears hot on his face as he'd dug up the ground. Sand streaming through his fingers, trying to find the one thing his ma had left him. He remembers sitting on the lip of a hole almost as deep as he was, with a small silver box in his hands.

It was small enough to fit on the palm of his hand. Closing his fist around the dulled silver box, he'd gotten to his feet, climbed into his A-Wing and not looked back.

Jedha isn't home anymore and it never will be.

When he crosses the threshold of the Holy City, Bodhi steals a cloak from the street. Guilt eats at him because these people already have so little. Justifying stealing from people that have next to nothing is difficult but he just tells himself that he needs to survive, that the chaos that would form if he were to be found would be a lot more damaging to these people than losing a cloak.

He knows, also, that he needs to survive this, at least to the point where he can tell someone what he found. So he sticks to the shadows with his gaze ahead like he has a destination in mind, like he knows where he's going. If he’s learnt anything from Cassian, it’s to hold his head high and pretend.

 

+

 

Bodhi spends most of the day sneaking around corners and hiding in the shadows of dark alleyways. He huddles on dark edges, his mouth growing drier with every minute and he can't tell if he can still taste copper in his mouth or if he's just imagining it. His shoulder aches and his head pounds, making it hard to concentrate and almost impossible to form a plan – an escape.

It’s been a long day and hallucinating Cassian Andor really isn’t on his list of things to do. Bodhi wonders if the injuries and lack of sustenance has actually caused his mind to create this scene in his head.

He stands there frozen, unblinking, and is suddenly reminded ever so strongly of that night before Cassian had left the base: remembers the fear and unease that had settled in his stomach.

A ship hovering above the city, which had been blocking the light from shining down directly on Bodhi, moves and all of a sudden, he’s blinded. He blinks, shading his eyes with a hand, still unsure as to whether this is real.

Then Cassian’s reaching towards him and Bodhi thinks, maybe he’s real after all.

“Kiss me,” Cassian says, shrugging his coat off and throwing it across the steps behind them. The fur on the hood can no longer be seen. He crowds into Bodhi, grabs at his shoulders stopping him from stumbling backwards.

“What?” Bodhi says, frozen to the spot, eyes locked on Cassian’s.

“Come on,” he says roughly, pulling Bodhi towards him. It’s so familiar, Cassian’s hands on his body, but it feels so foreign at the same time. Their lips are so close and Cassian is searching Bodhi’s eyes, waiting for a response. His heartbeat is erratic, and despite the chaos surrounding them, Bodhi can feel it beat. “It's a distraction.”

It takes almost a second too long to recognise the fear that’s settled in Cassian’s eyes, but the moment he does, he’s reaching up, kissing Cassian like his life depends on it. Maybe it does.

The moment he lets his eyes slip shut, he’s being knocked to the ground. A group of Stormtroopers barge past them, barely taking account of the two boys they pushed down. The two of them are covered in dirt that the troopers kick up behind them as they run.

With the bright light of the sun beating down on them, Bodhi can feel sweat dripping down his temples and mixing in with the dirt covering his face. He tries to catch his breath and leans against the wall behind him for a few seconds.

Before he can blink, Cassian is grabbing his arm and yanking him to his feet. It’s hard and rough as he stumbles alongside him and into a little alcove hidden in the shadows.

His shoulder aches and, again, he resists the urge to rub at it gently: to try and massage out the pain.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Cassian asks, voice rough.

“I –” Bodhi doesn’t get to finish the sentence before Cassian starts talking again.

“You’re an ex-imperial pilot; you’re just about as safe here as you would be on that Star Destroyer,” he motions above them.

“And you are?” Bodhi retorts, his voice sharp.

“What the hell were they even thinking sending you out here?” Cassian asks. His hair is even longer now, tied back into a ponytail at the back of his head. Bodhi’s heart aches. It’s been weeks since they saw each other. “I don't need backup, I told them that.”

“I’m not supposed to be here,” Bodhi fires back before slumping back against the wall behind him. Cassian loosens his grip on Bodhi’s arm. “I was doing a recon mission – I saw… I don’t know. It was like a moon, Cass. You wouldn’t believe it. A swarm of TIEs caught me and I had to go to hyperspace but it went wrong and I crashed here. I don’t think anyone knows I’m here – I don’t think they even know I’m alive.”

“You’re hurt,” Cassian says after a moment, his eyes searching Bodhi’s body. Bodhi guesses he’s probably noticing the way Bodhi’s favouring his left side.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Cassian says, pulling Bodhi in for a tight hug. “Let’s just… go back to my place, yeah?”

“Okay,” Bodhi mumbles, scrunching up his eyes so that he doesn’t cry. The heavy feeling in his chest has lifted ever so slightly as he buries his face into Cassian’s neck and grasps tightly at his back: “Okay.”

 

`+

 

Bodhi’s twenty and fresh off a recon mission the first time someone tells him they’re in love with him.

They’re lying in a patch of overgrown grass, a few miles away from the airfield, and the stars are shining bright in the dark sky. It smells of dirt and earth and those little white flowers scattered throughout the field that Bodhi can never remember the name of.

It’s itchy, the grass. Green blades tickle at his bare neck and he just knows that when they head back to the base, he’ll be covered in red scratches. It’ll clash horribly with his orange jumpsuit and Cassian will no doubt laugh at him, but Bodhi will just grin and shove a handful of the grass down the back of his shirt in retaliation.

Before that, before he even dares to think about needing to get back, Cassian tells Bodhi he loves him.

His voice is soft, slow and calculated. He knows exactly what he’s saying and Bodhi can just hear the emotion in the words as he breathes them out into the silent night sky.

Bodhi isn’t even looking at Cassian when he says it, despite feeling his gaze lingering on his face. Instead, he’s staring up at the sky, one arm folded underneath his head and the other hand absentmindedly fiddling with the strands of hair that often fall into Cassian’s eyes.

He looks at the beauty of the stars above them and of all the life out there. He thinks of the people out there like them, fighting to stay alive, fighting for what’s right. He thinks of the people that aren’t; be it from fear or helplessness. He thinks of the people trapped in a cycle impossible to escape.

He thinks that every single one of them has a beating heart and a story that deserves to be heard.

Then Cassian reaches up and smoothens out the frown lines that have appeared across his forehead. The blades of grass are persistently itchy but the warm brush of Cassian’s lingering fingers now on his jaw make him forget everything.

He can feel Cassian’s breath against his neck and the brush of his eyelashes against his skin as he blinks. He’s so close that Bodhi feels the air leave his lungs, unable to catch his breath.

“I love you,” he whispers.

Bodhi blinks and Cassian’s moved back slightly, but his fingers are still on Bodhi’s jawline. He catches his breath before he looks down at Cassian, catching his gaze.

“To the stars and back?”

“To the stars and back a million times over.”

A soft smile settles across Bodhi’s face and he looks back up at the stars and this time thinks of the person beside him, who’s story will always be heard by Bodhi.

 

+

 

Cassian’s pacing.

He has a little room just off of a corner in the tangled maze of the streets of Jedha City. It doesn’t have a single window and there’s dust and dirt everywhere. It barely fits a mattress to sleep on and the table beside it.

Bodhi doesn’t know how he found it and he doesn’t ask.

There’s just enough room for Cassian to pace back and forth, alternating between clenching his fists together at his sides and running his fingers through his hair. Bodhi watches him with wide eyes as he lets the Bacta gel sink in and help to heal the wounds scattered across his body.

Cassian, naturally, had tried to help at first: throwing packets of the gel along with water at Bodhi as he had gingerly sat down, resting against the wall behind him. Cassian had been far too jittery to do any good and his hands were shaking erratically – enough so that Bodhi had pushed him away and patched himself up instead.

Bodhi feels like every breath he draws in is riddled with disease, dust and dirt. He has no idea how Cassian has managed to survive here for so long in these conditions, and he doesn’t want to think about how he could’ve had it much worse. The bricks are cracked and there’s a slight breeze coming from somewhere but there’s no obvious source.

“I can’t do this with you here,” Cassian says finally. Bodhi’s still watching him, leaning back against the wall with his arm cradled against his chest.

“Bodhi,” Cassian says, there’s a resignation in his voice that so unfamiliar; “I can’t.”

Bodhi sighs and regrets it immediately as it jostles his shoulder, “Then let’s go back.”

“I’ll have failed them,” Cassian says, still pacing. It’s making Bodhi dizzy just watching him. “They’re counting on me.”

“Then we do it together.”

“No,” Cassian says, almost spitting the words from his lips. He stops pacing and stares hard at Bodhi. It’s the first time he’s looked at him properly since he kissed him outside in the streets. His hair is falling into his face and Bodhi itches to stand up and push it aside: to tie it up in a bun at the top of his head.

“Ok,” Bodhi mutters because he doesn’t know what’s running through Cassian’s mind and that scares him. Cassian’s never held back like this before. Never like this. Bodhi doesn’t recognise the man in front of him and that terrifies him.

All of a sudden, Cassian breaks eye contact, and takes a breath as he slumps down onto the mattress. Dust flies up from the material and the springs creak.

He’s silent for a while, just stares at the multitude of cracks in the wall with his legs lazily crossed in front of him.

“You’re not getting involved in this, Bodhi,” Cassian says, his voice firm, like there’s no room for discussion on the topic. Bodhi swallows, looking away from the man sitting next to him and stares at the wall ahead.

They’re silent for a while, and for the first time in a long time, Bodhi feels awkward beside Cassian.

Eventually Cassian sighs, “Look at me,” he says, Bodhi can feel his gaze on his face; “Please?”

Bodhi turns his head, looking at the man beside him. There’s a tension bubbling beneath his skin, in his veins. Bodhi wants to say something, wants to shout out but he feels like he’s trapped in a void and Cassian will never hear him.

“Even if,” Cassian begins, “Even if I wanted you to help, you can’t. You’re injured, Dee. You can’t walk without being in pain.”

Bodhi grunts.

“You’ll get us both killed.”

Bodhi shrugs in response and regrets it a second later. “Fine,” he says.

And that’s that.

 

 

 

 

+

 

More often than not, Bodhi will wake up with a start: his chest heaving and hands trembling. It’ll be when the sky is still dark and the stars are shining bright, and he’ll squeeze his eyes shut as he sits upright, letting his blankets fall to his lap.

If Cassian is there, he’ll usually stir awake, blinking sleepily up at Bodhi in the darkness.

“Hey,” he’ll say, reaching over and resting a hand lightly on Bodhi’s heaving back. “I’m here. You’re okay.”

Bodhi will mumble something incoherent and try to calm his breathing down. He’ll try not to think of water and waves, and thinks of the stars instead. Eventually he’ll let Cassian pull him to his bare chest and they’ll lie there together until they drift back to sleep.

If Cassian isn’t there, Bodhi will get to his feet and pace the room. Stretching his muscles and making himself breathe heavier helps: he thinks it’s because it reminds him that he’s still alive.

Some rare nights, even with Cassian by his side, he’ll fling himself from their bed as soon as he wakes and stumble into a pattern of walking from one side of the room to the other. Cassian will watch with worry in his eyes until Bodhi’s legs give out underneath him and he collapses back onto their bed.

They don’t get much sleep on those nights.

As Bodhi lays shivering under the thin blanket Cassian shouldn’t be sharing in his tiny, dingy room in Jedha, he wishes it would be one of those nights. At least, he thinks, that would mean he gets even a slither of sleep.

Now, however, he lays beside Cassian and his head won’t stop pounding, his shoulder won’t stop sending sparks of pain down his side, and tiredness is heavy on his eyelids.

The wind is roaring around them as they lay together on the creaky old mattress, curled up in the middle of the night. The difference between night and day here is something strong. They’re sharing a too-small blanket between them and Bodhi feels like he’s been shot a hundred times over by a blaster, but their body heat keeps them warm.

“I love you,” Bodhi whispers into Cassian’s bare shoulder.

“To the stars and back?” Cassian replies, his voice barely audible over the howling wind outside, but Bodhi feels rather than hears the way his voice hitches as he speaks.

“A million times over.”

It’s like burning magnesium, being with Cassian: a short bright burst of blinding light. It’s being unable to look away until just like that it fizzles out and everything goes black and all that’s left is the remains of the match used to set it alight.

It’s damaging and full of energy but Bodhi can’t look away, doesn’t want it to stop. This is a war that they’re in, and he knows this will end. He doesn’t lie to himself, not anymore. So he tells himself that when it ends, he wants it to end knowing that he had the most of Cassian’s bright, burning light.

Bodhi smiles softly, stroking at Cassian’s temples, watching as his eyelashes flutter ever so slightly and his nose twitches as he gently drifts off to sleep.

 

+

 

The first time Cassian leaves for a mission that’s longer than a few days, they’re young, maybe late teens. Fighting in a war they barely understand, but understand enough to know it’s what they want.

Cassian kisses like he doesn’t want to be anywhere else in the galaxy. He kisses something ferocious but something soft at the same time.

Maybe that’s just how he kisses Bodhi.

He can’t say that he’s upset, since Cassian Andor is kissing him after all.

They’re under an A-Wing in the corner of the hangar, sheltered by shadows and ships, but Bodhi knows that as soon as Cassian’s gone he’ll be exposed to ridicule from the other pilots. He’ll take it with a small smile and the taste of Cassian still on his tongue.

Right now, all he cares about is the fact that Cassian is biting at his bottom lip, pulling at it ever so slightly as he pushes Bodhi against the wall. Uneven rocks are digging into his back, but all he does is reach up and tangle his fingers in Cassian’s loose hair.

Bodhi doesn't think he'll ever get used to the fact that he can just kiss Cassian whenever he wants. He can rest a hand on his shoulder or the small of his back and receive a private smile in return. It's something that even now sends shivers down his spine and flutters in his stomach.

He thinks, Cassian trusts me.

Perhaps that's the part that he finds hard to believe, after all.

“Come back in one piece,” Bodhi mutters, resting their foreheads together, breathing heavily.

Cassian grins lazily, but his eyes are searching Bodhi’s. He brushes the hair that’s come loose from Bodhi’s ponytail off of his face and says; “I’ll try.”

It’s not enough but Bodhi takes it anyway because he knows that’s the most he’s going to get.

 

+

 

Bodhi wakes up alone.

He groans as he rolls onto his back, cursing himself for his natural sleeping position. The pounding of his head hasn’t gotten any better, still a persistent throb that makes him squeeze his eyes shut. His throat feels scratchy and dry, thinks he could drain a lake dry.

The space where Cassian was lying what couldn’t have been more than a few hours earlier is stone cold. He throws a hand over his face and resists the urge to scream.

He lays there for a while, ignoring his aching joints and unsuccessfully trying to ignore his throbbing head, until the room grows far too hot and he’s sweating from head to toe. Bodhi thinks he’s probably still concussed especially with the way the room spins as he sits upright. He guesses that’s something Bacta gel can’t fix. The blanket covering him pools in his lap and he rolls his neck, trying to crack the joints aching from a night on the hard bed.

He’s exhausted and he wants his own bed, back on Yavin, with Cassian by his side. He flops back down onto the bed and closes his eyes.

 

+

 

Bodhi sleeps most of the day away. Drifting in and out of consciousness before awaking with a jolt and a gasp of breath.

When Cassian comes back, it’s with a bottle of water and some rations. Bodhi doesn’t ask where he got it from, he realises he doesn’t want to know.

 

+

 

Bodhi doesn't remember much of his ma. He remembers what colour her eyes were but can’t imagine them, remembers how her hair would fall over her shoulders but not how it felt when she hugged him. As he sits at the entrance of Cassian's hole in the wall room in a crowded back alley of Jedha with a hood pulled over his shoulder, he's reminded of her.

His most poignant memory is probably the two of them watching the stars from the roof of their place in the middle of the desert. He thinks if he was back on that rickety old roof, he’d still remember each of the constellations.

Bodhi could probably recite the stories she told of the beings behind those stars and the formations. He could do it, but it would never be as good as her.

Hi ma was a storyteller, see. A writer.

In Nijedha, Bodhi remembers, and not for the first time, he wishes she was by his side.

Maybe it's The Force, maybe it's the concussion, but he thinks of his ma as he sits of those steps and waits for Cassian to come back.

 

+

 

Cassian comes back and again he returns with rations and water. Bodhi doesn’t ask. Instead he gets to his feet and puts his arms around Cassian’s neck.

“Who’s leading?” Cassian says, smiling softly.

Bodhi smiles back; “I don’t know, who usually leads?”

Despite Bodhi’s aching body, they dance. In that old dirty room that’s full of cracks and history, they add to it.

Cherry-red lips that taste of caramel and deep brown eyes shine with hidden secrets that may never get told. Soft smiles and even softer glances, it feels, to Bodhi, like home.

But, here and now, in this moment, as they sway together to a soft melody, barely a hair's width apart, Bodhi feels like he could burst. It’s just them. Just the two of them like it should always be.

“You know,” Bodhi whispers, his voice carrying through the still air; “I think I may be a little bit in love with you.”

“Mhmm,” Cassian mutters, dropping a kiss to Bodhi’s head.

“Yeah, just a little.”

Later that night, when they’re laying together on that dusty old mattress, Cassian grasps theirs hands together, fingers twisting together; loose but locked there.

All Bodhi can feel is the butterflies in his chest and the way warmth spreads from where their fingertips are interlinked all the way to his chest where his heart is thump, thump, thumping.

"You know," Cassian whispers, voice thick with sleep; "You're not bad, Bodhi Rook."

With a rapidly beating heart, Bodhi smiles into the darkness because this man has come in and turned Bodhi’s entire life around. It’s been years and it still stuns him sometimes. He’s a hurricane that won’t settle – a storm that destroys everything in his path but leaves something beautiful in his wake.

 

+

 

Cassian has a tattoo on his collar bone. Bodhi knows this because he was the one to put it there. Not to mention he's sleeping with the guy, but, whatever.

The tattoo itself is very faint, very discrete, and very Cassian Andor. That’s how Bodhi would describe it anyway, if anyone were to ask. Along his left collarbone there's a series of dots with lines connecting one to another.

A constellation.

More specifically, a star formation that can be seen all year round from Yavin 4. It doesn't ever seem to move, a permanent fixture up in the night sky.

"Reminds me of home," Cassian had said, barely cringing as Bodhi had poked the ink into his skin: "Reminds me of you."

Bodhi had rolled his eyes, continuing his work. When he'd finished, they'd sat crossed-legged on their bedroom floor, a bottle of something far too strong between them, and Bodhi had found himself unable to look away from the lines on Cassian's skin.

Bodhi has a tattoo, too. But Bodhi isn't stupid and he'd gotten one of the other pilots to do it for him. His boyfriend has steady hands when holding a sniper but Bodhi knows what Cassian is like at things like this: his hair has never been the same since that cut.

He sometimes thinks it was a bit of a reckless idea to get the Rebel insignia tattooed permanently on the back of his neck, but he doesn't regret it. Not at all.

Besides, it's low enough to be hidden by a high collar, but high enough for it to be recognisable in his pilot jumpsuit. Bodhi justifies it by telling himself that if the Alliance wanted discrete they wouldn't have gone with a bright orange pilot uniform.

Bodhi sits on the steps with his hood pulled up, tattoo hidden, and the cold breeze rustling at his ankles. It’s been three days and there’s only a few things he’s sure of.

Firstly, Cassian is definitely here on some sort of assassination mission, even though he refuses to tell Bodhi the details. Not that Bodhi’s asked all that much.

Secondly, Jedha is a very busy city. Ignoring the sheer number of Stormtroopers that patrol the alleyways and streets, there’s always a crowd of people trying to get from one place to another.

Thirdly, his shoulder is most definitely broken.

It’s been three days of this so far and Bodhi doesn’t know how much longer he can take it. Mostly, he’s spent the days sleeping off his concussion as if it’s a hangover, but now that his pounding head has reduced to a minor inconvenience, he can’t sleep the days away.

He’s restless and the temperature isn’t something he’s used to. It’s either too hot or too cold, he’s either shivering or sweating. He doesn’t know how to act; it all feels a bit like a dream.

The heavy pounding of footfall against the stone ground startled Bodhi awake.

Blinking his eyes harshly in the bright light of Jedha’s sun, he lifts his head up from the wall beside him. Only a short nap, he’d told himself. Just a quick shut-eye wouldn't do any harm.

Cassian is rushing towards him, strapping his blaster back to his belt. He grabs Bodhi’s uninjured arm, dragging him off the steps and down an alleyway.

“We need to leave,” Cassian says, tripping over his words in his haste. “Now.”

“I guessed that much,” Bodhi says, far more awake more that he had been seconds before. He breathes heavily as he runs.

 

+

 

The night before Cassian leaves for his mission to Jedha, it’s way past sunset when Bodhi finds himself walking through the Yavin forest.

Leaves and twigs crunch under his heavy boots as he walks through the forest. It’s chilly, a soft breeze rustling through the trees. It’s so quiet out here, compared to two miles west. Bodhi thinks it must be the trees, hiding their secrets and everyone else’s.

“Leaving?” Bodhi says by way of announcing his presence.

“Classified,” Cassian says, scuffing his shoes in the dirt.

He’s sitting on the floor with his back resting against a tree, knees pulled up to his chest, and he looks so young. He doesn’t look anything like the twenty-four-year-old he is and much more like the eighteen-year-old he was when they met.

The breeze means it’s cold enough to make it stupid to come outside without a coat, but here Cassian is. Usually, he wears that stupid old fur coat Bodhi got him all those years ago wherever he goes.

Bodhi sits down next to him, slipping ever so slightly on a stray twig as he does. The stars are shining bright above them like they always do. There’s the branches of the tall trees obscuring the view ever so slightly, but Bodhi doesn’t have to look to know they’re there.

Bodhi leans his body into Cassian’s, head resting on his shoulder.

“I don’t regret coming here, you know,” Cassian murmurs, “I don’t think I could live with myself if I wasn’t in this fight.”

Bodhi nods and grasps tightly at Cassian’s hand.

“It’s just hard,” Cassian says finally. His shoulders slump.

Bodhi reaches up and brushes away a loose hair that’s falling into Cassian’s eyes: “At least let me cut your hair before you go?”

Cassian just nods once, finding Bodhi’s hand in the pocket of his coat and tangles their fingers together. “I love you.”

“To the stars and back?”

“A million times over.”

They sit under the stars until the air grows so cold that one coat between them isn’t enough and the two of them start falling asleep before waking with a jolt every five minutes.

Cassian walks ever so close to Bodhi, who just links their fingers together as they make their way back through the trees. They’re both shivering, but Cassian is unnaturally quiet, which only serves to make Bodhi’s heart ache. He’s not even sure he would want to know what his mission is, even if he was able to access that information.

All Bodhi knows is that there’s a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach and he hopes beyond hope that he’s wrong.

 

+

 

They run through the crowded streets, knocking into too many people and too many walls. Bodhi wants to tell Cassian to stop, that he can’t go any further, but his hand is dragging him along and he’s muttering into his comm: “Kay! Get us out of here.”

Bodhi breathes through the pain constantly jolting through his shoulder with his teeth clenched hard together.

“I swear, Kay, if you’ve gone into low power mode in a huff because I left you alone for too long again, I’m gonna reprogram you back to an imperial droid.”

Bodhi huffs out a short laugh, before stumbling into Cassian’s side as a blaster fires in their direction.

“Shit,” they both mutter simultaneously.

Normally this would’ve caused at least a shared grin, but instead Cassian is pulling his own blaster from his belt, blindly firing behind him.

The first thing Bodhi thinks as he hears something behind him explode is that he hopes no-one got caught in the crossfire. The second is that he wishes he could get out of here before he does any more damage to the city and its people.

 

+

 

They make it onto the ship with barely seconds to spare. Before the Stormtroopers have a chance to catch them with a blaster, or handcuff them to a pole.

Kaytoo is moaning, or at least, that’s the tone Bodhi usually interprets from him. But he’s too exhausted and his head is pounding again, so he lets them fly them away from the sand and the heat and back towards home.

 

+

 

It’s a while before Cassian finds Bodhi, who’s still breathing hard, shoulder aching, clutching at his side with every breath. He’s on the floor just outside the cabin, when Cassian sits down next to him.

“If you think,” Bodhi says, raising his voice when he notices Cassian’s presence, “I don’t know what you do, Cass, you’re a lot more naïve than I thought.”

“I kill people,” Cassian says faintly. “Cold-blooded murder, that's what it is.”

He doesn’t look back at Bodhi, just continues to stare at the wall. Bodhi watches as his eyes follow the patterns made by beeping lights.

“It doesn't matter what side I'm on, I’m killing people. Innocent people, wrongly accused people, people who made a few mistakes in life and people who have made many.”

There's a moment of silence, only the sounds from the ship flying through space to be heard, before: “Who says I have the right to take someone's life from them like that?” He pauses to put his head in his hands. “Bodhi.”

“I know,” Bodhi says quietly. He shuffles sideways slightly so that he’s sitting with his uninjured shoulder against Cassian.

“You know.” Cassian says. It’s more of a statement than a question but the tone in his voice lifts slightly at the end and Bodhi shrugs one shoulder.

“I’m a pilot, Cass,” Bodhi says, watching as Cassian scratches his nails on his trousers: a nervous tick. “I hear things.”

“You know.”

“Hey,” Bodhi says, resting his chin on Cassian’s shoulder, adjusting his position slightly so that he doesn’t pull at his injuries. There’s not much he can do about the ache at the back of his head and behind his eyes, however. “This is a war. We have to make tough decisions.”

“I know that,” Cassian breathes out. He stops scratching and finds Bodhi’s hand.

Bodhi watches as he tangles their fingers together. “It’s not easy. It’s never going to be easy, not for us. We’re going to have to do things that we’ll regret. I’ve already done things I regret, Cass. I’m an ex-imperial worker, hell, there’s so much I wish I could go back and change.”

“I don’t want your opinion of me to change,” Cassian says eventually. “I don’t want you to hate me. I don’t think I could bare it if you hated me.”

“I could never hate you,” Bodhi mutters.

“I’m sure you could.”

“Not for this,” Bodhi says, breathing slowly, watching with heavy eyes. “Never for this.”

 

+

 

Bodhi’s elbows deep into the engine of an A-Wing when he hears the footsteps approaching from behind him. Despite the music that’s blasting across the hangar as it usually is, the footsteps are still recognisable to Bodhi.

The chatter of everyone around him trying to talk over the noise isn’t a distraction to Bodhi like it would be to some people, it’s much more a comfort. Knowing that these people are around him, by his side, is a comfort.

The pilots are probably the rowdiest crew on the entire resistance base. It may have something to do with the fact that they’re the largest, but they still have a reputation among them. Bodhi thinks that’s maybe what he loves most about them in a roundabout way.

Usually, Bodhi finds it so easy to get lost in big groups, big crowds that are too loud and overpower him. He finds his mind wandering, lost in the stars, but with these people – he never feels alone.

As a pilot, you have to trust your crew, your co-captain, your leader, otherwise the team will crumble like a brick being pulled from the bottom of a pyramid. They have to trust one another: to hold each other up and catch them if they fall.

This is why, Bodhi thinks, they’re family in a way that no-one else is on this base.

Bodhi’s sitting on top of the ship, legs crossed as he reaches into the engine. His hands are covered in black oil, with streaks across his cheeks that he’d put there when absentmindedly rubbing at his face. His hair is matted, thrown into a lopsided ponytail to keep most of it away from his work.

He has his orange jumpsuit half undone with the arms tied around his waist, his white undershirt covered in a mix of dirt, sweat and grease. Sweat drips down his temples making stray strands of black hair stick to his face, but there’s a small smile spreading across his face the moment he hears those footsteps.

As always, there’s goggles hanging around his neck.

“Oi, Rook,” one of the pilots shouts, “Don’t wreck my baby just because you’re distracted by your boyfriend.”

Bodhi grins, “Wouldn’t dream of it, Johnson. I’ll treat her just fine, don’t you worry. We need her to come back, preferably with you in it.”

There’s a bout of laughter and Bodhi turns his head to find Cassian Andor climbing up the ship. His hair is getting long enough to fall into his eyes and almost long enough to tie up. There’s a blaster strapped to his belt and his eyes are tired, but there’s a smile on his lips nonetheless.

“Hey,” he says softly as he settles behind Bodhi, dropping a kiss to Bodhi’s bare shoulder.  That in itself is a sign that makes Bodhi’s heart sink to his stomach.

He carefully pulls his hands from the engine, wiping them on an old rag and sighs: “How long?”

“I don’t know,” Cassian says, leaning into Bodhi’s body. “A while.”

Cassian leaves. That’s just what he does. For the resistance, he flies off on these almost impossible missions that usually bring him back with a foray of wounds: a broken shoulder, burnt arms, concussed head.

The thing is, Cassian leaving is never a shock, not anymore, anyway. Bodhi’s a quick learner and he already knows that he’s probably going to spend the rest of his life worrying about Cassian more than he worries about himself. There will always be a constant ache in his heart and fear in his stomach whenever he goes to bed alone.

A side effect of fighting in this war, he supposes.

It’s never a shock when Cassian leaves, but that doesn’t stop his heart from sinking at the news. He feels like he only just got him back. Bodhi just smiles softly over at Cassian, who just gently brushes a thumb over Bodhi’s cheek and says, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

That’s the thing, though, Bodhi thinks trying not to frown, he’ll be gone before he knows it, too.

He moves behind Bodhi, sitting so that he can his chin is resting on Bodhi’s shoulder. This action only makes unease rest in Bodhi’s chest, because this is so unusual for Cassian, to be showing affection like this whilst Bodhi’s busy working for the rebellion and all that.

It just makes him like that whatever it is that they’ve got him doing this time, it’s not something that Cassian wants to be doing.

“You’re not allowed to make any suggestions,” Bodhi says instead, turning back to the engine in front of him and digging his hands inside: “Not one.”

Cassian laughs, “What if –”

Bodhi just shakes his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “Your suggestions are always shit, Cass. You don’t know anything about building a ship.”

Cassian grumbles.

“You heard Johnson earlier, he was scared you were gonna distract me.”

“Do I distract you?” Cassian asks, breath ghosting over Bodhi’s neck.

“Always,” Bodhi replies, shrugging his shoulders so that it jobs Cassian’s chin ever so slightly, “Doesn’t mean I’ll mess up this ship though.”

 

+

 

They land on Yavin and it’s raining. Harsh and heavy, they stumble from the ship.

Before they get anywhere, Cassian drags Bodhi away from the crowd that’s only just beginning to congregate. He pushes him towards the forest behind them. He mutters something to one of the pilots, before pulling them into a jog.

It's raining like the world is either falling down around them or being cleansed of any impurities. The scent of the damp forest lingers in the air as the water droplets hit the ground; crashing against leaves and branches.

There an exhaustion set like a weight on Bodhi’s shoulders as they make their way into the forest. He feels like he’s always running, running, running, either away from something, towards something, or somewhere with no end in sight. The rain is pelting against their heads and Bodhi tries to catch his breath for a moment. They’re barely under the cover of the trees and Bodhi’s tired.

His feet slow to a stop, leaves crunching under his feet and Cassian almost crashes into his back. He spins, almost slipping on the wet floor and Cassian grabs his arm, steadying him. Before any words have the chance to tumble from Cassian’s lips, Bodhi’s reaching forward. His hands are grasping at Cassian's jaw, pulling him closer, closer, closer. There’s the feeling of smooth skin underneath his rough thumbs as he brushes them against Cassian’s cheekbones, and a shiver runs down his spine because Cassian is radiating and Bodhi feels helpless in front of him.

His heart is caught in his chest, tangled and twisted as they stand impossibly close. He watches as Cassian’s eyes flicker down to his lips, a lingering gaze that makes Bodhi’s breath hitch ever so slightly.

It's raining and Bodhi's kissing Cassian like he’ll never get to do it again. With closed eyes and their lips pressed together, all he can taste is Cassian’s muskiness. It's all he can breathe and all he can think about.

He’s cold down to the bone and his clothes are soaked through but all he can feel is the fire running through his veins and the heat behind the kiss and every touch. The rain is falling as if it's trying to squeeze into the space between the two of them and into the gaps between their bodies. There's droplets of water running down his forehead, his cheeks, and falling off the tips of his hair.

But Cassian is here, right here in front of him so he kisses him like his life depends on it. Like he’ll never get the chance to so again.

He pulls back ever so slightly, lips still touching and bodies pressed together, breathing hotly into Cassian's mouth. Eyelashes brush as he tilts his head in the other direction; he craves Cassian's lips. One taste wasn't enough, but he waits, lips brushing, barely touching.

It's raining and Cassian kisses him back.

He kisses him back with such a strength that Bodhi reels from it. His heart jumpstarts in his chest, whirring like the mess inside his head. He thinks that if you could see auras, his would be glowing gold.

Bodhi threads one hand further round the back of Cassian’s head, fingers tangled in the wet hair as he pulls him closer. The metal hand drops down so that it’s just very slightly off the centre of Cassian’s chest and he kisses Cassian to the rhythm of his beating heart.

He bites ever so gently at Bodhi's lip when he pulls back like he doesn't want to let go and Bodhi feels breathless; fearless. When he blinks and the world doesn’t dissolve around him and he doesn’t wake up, he digs his fingers ever so slightly into Cassian’s chest, as he catches his breath.

Cassian grins softly, trying to blink the rain from his eyes, as Bodhi laughs wetly into Cassian's neck, whispering into the skin, "We should head back."

“Not yet,” Cassian mutters, other hand reaching up to tangle into Bodhi’s messy hair. “They can wait a few more minutes.”

Bodhi presses his lips to the underside of Cassian’s jaw; “Okay. They can wait.”

It's raining like either the sky is falling down upon them or like it’s cheering for them as it patters against the ground. Bodhi feels the rumble of Cassian's murmur of agreement in his chest nonetheless.

He knows they need to leave. He knows they need to let everyone know they’re safe and alive. He knows they have responsibilities but he wants to be selfish. He’s allowing himself to be selfish and bask in the moment and the feelings surrounding them.

His hands are shaking and the trees around them are swaying ever so slightly in the gentle breeze but he’s smiling into Cassian’s neck because they can have a moment. When all his life he’s been fighting for other people, he’s going to take a moment for himself and revel in it.

Because it’s raining like the world is crying and he’s just kissed his best boy and his best boy has just kissed him back.

 

+

 

**Somewhere, on the other side of the galaxy:**

Jyn Erso knows what she has to do. She’s known this for a long time now, even when she didn’t really understand what it meant.

Now, she finds it easy. The hardest part is over and she tries not to think of it. Desperately tries not to think of her father’s eyes and the smile she’d left him with on his lips.

She fools everyone with a cold glare and impossibly tight posture. Jyn holds herself proper, with purpose and importance. She guesses in the minds of Imperial believers, the uniform suits her, or that’s the opinion of anyone who knows who she is.

In reality, the uniform feels tight and stifling and she hates to wear it. She hates branding this image on his own body, but it’ll be worth it. It has to be worth it, she tells herself.

She has Stardust in her hands and she runs.

**Author's Note:**

> wow it's been months. thnx a bunch to all my pals: kayla, annie, pia, noga, elsa, every1 who read this for me. i appreciate u a bunch. ur the best. 
> 
> u can hmu over on my tumblr: bodassian.tumblr.com (or amemorymaze.tumblr.com). talk 2 me abt my favourite pilots and jedis and rebels. i love star wars. fyi.


End file.
